Friday, 29 October 2010

L

to do nothing other than lye,
smoke pot and
succumb to Chopin.
soft, beautiful and wondrous

a meeting was
organized but i was not
organized for the meeting.
said my bit
and left it at that.
street lights fly past
staring at me, into me.

i gaze at the city.
it glitters and moves
but not too much,
not too much to be seen by
the lot.
i gaze and it gazes back

unsure, what time?
could it bring, two seen
and gone. adventures in capitals
drugs taken and possessions gained
and lost if,
you want to see it that way.

Chopin.
there is nothing more
hurtful
than realising you
know nothing.

and, that you realise
that.

the manifesto was a pulse,
just like
Chopin,
in the dances
of smoke,
across my face

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